The body of a god is terrifyingly durable. Even in death, it doesn't decay easily.
Even if only fragments remain, they instinctively draw energy from the void around them.
If the god is strong enough, that energy could be enough to grow a new will — rebirth, forming an independent consciousness.
And if their power reaches the legendary level, even a single drop of blood could be enough for them to rise again — eternal, undying.
But the head before them was nowhere near that level.
Its consciousness had long since dissipated. The energy it absorbed merely created organic matter — fuel for life, but with no will of its own.
Left undisturbed for millions of years, this place might have slowly evolved into a living planet.
But it was discovered by the Tivan Group, and that natural process was halted.
For centuries now, Tivan had been exploiting this place. As long as the skull's core structure remained intact, this would be a near-infinite resource field for thousands of years.
Of course, the spinal fluid and rare minerals refined here were extremely valuable to ordinary mortals… but of little use to someone of Lock's level.
They stepped into the market, and it was chaos — fighting pits, bars, traders hawking bizarre wares from every corner of the galaxy. It looked more like a pirate port than a city.
The newcomers immediately drew stares.
Lock, Gamora, Star-Lord, Drax, Rocket, and Groot made for an intimidatingly strange group — a human, a green-skinned assassin, a tree, a talking raccoon, a destroyer, and a man with a divine presence.
No one dared to start trouble. Not yet.
The predators in the crowd merely watched and waited, like vultures circling, seeing if someone else would be dumb enough to provoke these outsiders first.
Gamora led them to a bar-like outpost, handed over a few units of currency, and soon an alien with a head covered in sharp quills appeared.
"The Collector isn't available," the quilled alien said flatly. "If you have something to trade, you can wait."
"No."
Lock stepped forward, his voice calm but carrying an edge that made the air feel heavier.
"Tell him to put down whatever he's doing and come out to greet us."
The quilled alien sneered. "Do you even know where you are? The Collector is king here. I'm doing you a favor by even delivering your message. Without a trade, you wouldn't even get an audience."
Lock's brow furrowed. "Then don't waste my time. If you won't deliver the message… I'll go in myself."
Star-Lord and Gamora exchanged glances. They had come here to sell the Orb, but Lock clearly wasn't here to bargain.
Rocket grinned wickedly, pulling back the grips on his Hadron Cannon. The weapon unfolded with a series of clicks and hums, ready to fire.
"I like Lock's style," Rocket snickered. "Let's just blast our way in."
The quilled alien waved sharply, and suddenly a dozen mercenaries appeared from the shadows — humanoid but with alien mutations, brandishing strange and lethal weapons.
Gamora, Drax, and Star-Lord drew their weapons as well.
Tension exploded in the air.
The crowd scattered.
Many of them had thought to pick a fight with the newcomers earlier, but now they watched with grim anticipation.
Everyone knew the Collector's vaults contained priceless treasures — but no one dared to make a move against him.
No one who had tried had lived to tell about it.
That this group dared to start a fight here at all meant they weren't ordinary mercenaries — win or lose, they were dangerous.
Lock finally spoke again, his tone casual but his words carrying weight:
"Tell Tivan this — someone from Asgard is here to see him."
Sif had once come here with the Aether. Tivan had been deferential, respectful, almost reverent.
Even in this lawless edge of space, an Asgardian warrior commanded respect.
And judging by how Asgard had trusted Tivan with one of the Infinity Stones, Lock had guessed the truth: Tivan might not just be an eccentric collector — he was likely a distant ally, perhaps even a peripheral agent of Asgard's network.
Asgard's reach was vast, its operatives scattered across the cosmos — spies, traders, information-brokers.
If Lock was right, some of Tivan's rarest treasures probably ended up in Odin's vault over the centuries.
Pity that most of those treasures had been destroyed when Lock reforged his divine body — the treasure room half-emptied in the process.
The quilled alien didn't care.
"No one cares what family you're from. Fire!"
Dozens of alien weapons discharged at once.
Gamora and Star-Lord tensed, certain they wouldn't be able to dodge the volley.
Lock simply extended his hand.
A golden divine shield flared to life around the group.
The energy bolts dissolved harmlessly against it, some bouncing away, some simply vanishing.
Lock's eyes narrowed.
"You don't want to notify him? Then I'll call him out myself."
He stomped one foot.
BOOM.
The ground shook violently.
Cracks spider-webbed outward from where Lock stood, exposing faintly glowing spinal fluid beneath the bone-like surface.
The mercenaries were thrown to their knees, their weapons clattering to the ground.
Even the scavengers watching from a distance swallowed hard — suddenly very grateful they hadn't tried anything.
Before the quilled alien could react, the great doors of the Collector's museum slid open with a slow, resonant creak.
A red-skinned alien servant in white stepped out and moved aside.
Then, from within, emerged the man himself.
White hair swept back, fur draped over his shoulders, sunglasses hiding his eyes, the Collector, Taneleer Tivan, strode forward.
The quilled alien immediately bowed and stepped back several paces.
This was the master of Knowhere — the one no one dared cross.
Tivan's voice was sharp. "What is going on here?"
The quilled alien stammered, "T-this person claims to be from some noble house — he demanded you greet him in person, and I… tried to stop him, but—"
"But what?"
Tivan's tone snapped like a whip.
A spark appeared between his fingers, small but bright, and with a flick he sent it flying toward the alien.
The poor fool screamed as fire engulfed him, his body reduced to ash in seconds.
The Collector adjusted his sunglasses, sparks still dancing between his fingers, and scanned the group.
"Which of you demanded t,o see me?"
---
A/N: Advanced Chapters Have Been Uploaded On My Patreon
Support: patreon.com/Narrator_San